Gamer4 in. Cry your pardon, I wasn't expecting my second chapter back after that hiatus to be a (genuinely quick) random quicky, but... here we are. This random quicky is dedicated twofold- first, the general outline is from TroyHasACamera's Joseph Listens to Jazz, one of a collection of brilliant surreal comedy on Youtube- like most things I champion, it's years out of date, but still very much worth a watch. Secondly, the thing that caused me to abandon the next main chapter and write this now, rather than later, this quicky is in memoriam to Jimmy Buffet, a musician I've loved since my early childhood, who passed away a week ago now, on Friday September 1st of 2023- may he rest peacefully in Margaritaville, finally locating his lost shaker of salt. This random quicky isn't much, but hey, it's something. Please enjoy.

Disclaimer: We started singing, "Bye-bye, Ms. American Pie! Drove my chevy to the levy but the levy was dry! Them good ol' boys was drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin' 'This will be the day that I die... this will be the day that I die...'"

Random Quicky

Link Listens to a Record

Link huffed and puffed as he jogged his way through the fog of Silent Hill. It was strange, no matter how long these little jogs of his lasted, he'd never seen anybody in this town aside from members of Philanthropy. It was almost like nobody actually lived in this whole town aside from them.

Other things were odd about the town as well- he'd noticed the locks on several doors were completely broken, meaning people wouldn't be able to open the doors even if they did live here. Then there were the times that air sirens rang out over the town and the sun went down even if it was the middle of the day. At those times, he could swear he had seen someone- some big galoot wearing a pyramid-shaped helmet lumbering down the place's alleys. He really ought to talk to that guy sometime, figure out where he got his headgear- it looked impractical, but so cool at the same time!

So lost in thought was he that he tripped right over a garbage bin in the middle of the sidewalk, tumbling over and- to coin a phrase- biffing his leg on the concrete. "Ahhhhh! Ssssss!" he groaned, cradling his leg and moaning. "Aaaahhhhh! Sssssss! Ahhhhh-"

He was distracted when he noticed the large box that had spilled out of the bin. A grin crossed his face as he approached it- a wooden box, roughly a foot and a half in length and a foot even in width. He glanced around- there was still nobody nearby, and surely, even if there was, whoever's box this was had thrown it away- there was no shame in taking back home to see what it was, surely...

XXXX

The box proved heavier than he'd expected- he was panting by the time he stumbled his way into the house. "Mario- hey, Mario!" he gasped out as he lurched his way into the kitchen.

"What?" came Mario's voice from down the hall.

"I found... a thing!"

"I don't care."

Link huffed. His loss. He turned his attention towards the box and opened it up- his face broke into a grin when he realized he'd picked up a record player, complete with a record. "Score! And the twins said backing all my stuff up on vinyl was a waste of money!"

Without much care, he grabbed the needle and placed it on a random spot on the record before activating it- despite its rough day, it began turning with no problem. Steadily, a light, jazzy tune picked up:

Now they're making movies,

In old black and white,

Happy endings,

Where nobody fights!

Oh, yeah, he could dig this music. He leaned on his arms gently, listening to the tune, and found his eyelids growing heavy. So... sleepy...

So if you find yourself

In that nostalgic rage,

Honey, jump right up,

And show your age!

Link awoke to find himself standing in a vast, grassy field, dressed in a fine-pressed suit, perfectly combed hair, a monocle and top hat, and the piece de resistance, the one thing he truly wanted more than anything out of life:

I wish I had a pencil-thin moustache,

The Boston Blackie kind!

Yes! He finally had it- a classy, refined moustache, nothing at all like that Stalin-looking caterpillar on Mario's lip! He stroked it gently, relishing in the feel of it. He gleefully began to prance around the grassy field, relishing in the perfection of his moustache!

A two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket,

And an autographed picture of Andy Devine!

I remember bein' buck-toothed and skinny,

Writin' fan letter's to Sky's niece Penny-

'Oh, I wish I had a pencil-thin moustache,

So I could solve some mysteries, too!'

Link grinned as he picked up a magnifying glass and located a trail of footprints, clearly leading to his culprit! Yes, he didn't need Mario or Zelda to solve mysteries anymore, not when he had this magnificent moustache on his side!

He kicked his legs as he danced along the trail to the music:

Then it's Bandstand, Disneyland, growin' up fast,

Drinkin' on a fake ID!

And speaking of Zelda... the footprints were leading right up to a blond-haired girl in a long black dress, a cigarette in a holder, which in turn was in her hand as she watched him approach. She smiled and beckoned him closer. He looked nervous for a moment, but shrugged- it wasn't like anything could hurt him with his pencil-thin moustache!

He approached her, and she pulled him into a tight embrace.

Rama of the jungle was everyone's Bawama,

But only jazz musicians were smoking marijuana!

The hug was going on for an uncomfortably long time. Link finally made to break it, only to find a gun in Zelda's hand. Crap, femme fatale! His moustache had failed him!

BANG!

He looked from her impassive face to the fresh wound in his chest- she turned and left him to curl up and bleed out on the grassy plains.

Yeah, I wish I had a pencil-thin moustache,

So I could solve some mysteries, too!

Link had fallen onto the record player, finally stopping its music as blood leaked out of the fresh wound on his chest, and out of his mouth.

Mario peeked into the kitchen. "Link? What's with that-"

He paused when he saw Link dead on the table, and sighed. "Yare yare daze, not again." He turned to get his Random Quicky Reset Kit. "I thought I told him to stop playing around with crap he brings in from this town's streets..."

XXXX

Once more, rest in peace, Jimmy Buffet. We who remain behind will continue keeping it between the navigational beacons. Again, I had this idea for a random quicky for a while, recent events just bumped it up the queue a bit. Worry not, I've actually made some decent progress on the next actual chapter- I won't say when it will be up, to avoid tempting fate, but it is coming along rather nicely. Until then, don't you dare go hollow- Gamer4 out.